


like coffee and cream

by zombietime



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Minor Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 23:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombietime/pseuds/zombietime
Summary: As he watches them, grateful that no customers have walked in on this, his first thought is that straight boys really do the gayest shit sometimes. His second thought is that those two are never working together. Ever. Again. Hunk is a decent employee as far as 19 year old boys go, but for some reason he seems to think that Lance’s terrible ideas are allfantastic.Keith is so tired.





	like coffee and cream

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/justabookeater_/status/1156051099528376320).

Keith will be the first one to tell you that he hates his job. He applied for a part-time barista position when he started college and now, five years later he’s somehow ended up as assistant manager. Coran, the GM, keeps dropping hints that he’s next in line if another store opens up and this is honestly the last thing Keith wanted to do with his life.

Now that he’s assistant manager, he doesn’t have to work mornings, and thankfully the pay is better so he’s got something resembling savings. But wrangling the rotating staff of high school and college students that Coran keeps hiring is almost as bad as having to get up at 5am to open. He doesn’t care about their drama, or who got drunk at whose party, or who got dumped this week. He gets that their feelings are valid or whatever, but that’s why people have friends. Keith isn’t their friend. He’s their boss, and he’d just like one day where they stop fucking around and do their damn jobs without him having to give them the look.

He finishes next week’s schedule and prints a copy for the breakroom. He hears a crash from the cafe and buries his face in his hands. With a heavy sigh, he walks out to face whatever disaster Lance has caused now.

He knows it’s Lance. It’s _always_ Lance.

\--

He finds Pidge first. Her apron is covered in whipped cream and she does not look happy about it. Hunk and Lance are darting around the cafe, each brandishing a whipped cream cannister and attempting to shoot each other in the face with it.

As he watches them, grateful that no customers have walked in on this, his first thought is that straight boys really do the gayest shit sometimes. His second thought is that those two are never working together. Ever. Again. Hunk is a decent employee as far as 19 year old boys go, but for some reason he seems to think that Lance’s terrible ideas are all _fantastic._

Keith is so tired.

He clears his throat and the two of them stop in their tracks. Hunk sheepishly picks up a chair that one of them knocked over, which was probably the sound Keith heard from the office. Lance opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of excuse, and Keith fixes him with a glare. He doesn’t want an excuse. He just wants this cleaned up.

“Sorry, Keith,” Hunk mumbles. He elbows Lance in the ribs.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Apologize to Pidge,” Keith says. 

He doesn’t have the energy to yell at them today. He’s training an assistant manager for another location this week and the guy should be showing up any minute. The boys apologize with a noticeable amount more sincerity. Pidge, who has already changed into a clean apron, seems to accept it. She’s more gracious than Keith would have been at her age. 

\--

The next time the door bell chimes the shop is thankfully back to looking at least _mostly_ respectable. Keith turns around to get a good look at the guy he’s training and his mouth almost drops open. 

He’s got a solid six inches on Keith, looks like he spends every spare moment at the gym and his long black bangs are falling into grey eyes that Keith can’t look away from. 

“Hi, are you Keith?”

Keith blinks.

“Yeah,” he says finally. He frantically searches his brain for the name he read off the paperwork. “You must be Takashi.”

“You can call me Shiro,” he says, his smile widening. 

He finally manages to tear his gaze away from those stupid beautiful eyes and get a good look at the rest of the man he’s going to be spending the next two weeks training. Shiro is wearing a grey button down that matches his eyes, a black bowtie, and dress pants that show over thick thighs. Keith feels underdressed in his own store. His skinny jeans and oversized sweater might be dress code appropriate, but they feel sloppy next to Shiro’s well put together attire.

Keith is so fucked. 

\--

Keith spends his next three shifts training Shiro in scheduling, ordering, and balancing the safe. During their down time, they talk about everything from food to movies to college. He learns that Shiro had been in training to become an astronaut when an accident took his right arm and left him with the scar across the bridge of his nose that Keith daydreams of kissing. He makes dumb dad jokes that Keith pretends to hate but secretly looks forward to. He tucks Keith’s hair behind his ear when it falls out of the messy bun Keith ties it up in when he’s working on the daily paperwork. 

It’s been so long since Keith got laid that even that slight brush of fingers against his skin makes him flush. He lays in bed at night, frustrated and horny but refusing to jerk off thinking about his coworker. He’s an _adult_ and he’s going to be _professional_ about this. 

That is until Lance turns a corner with a pitcher of cold milk balanced on the palm of his hand and runs directly into the wall that is Shiro’s massive chest. Keith watches helplessly as the pitcher topples over and clatters to the floor. Milk spills down the front of Shiro’s navy blue henley and drips onto the floor.

“Lance!” Keith grumbles. “How many times have I told you?”

“No theatrics with liquids,” Lance mumbles sheepishly.

Hunk hands Shiro a towel. He takes it and ducks into the back as Pidge and Lance clean up the mess. Keith wanders into the back to check on Shiro and finds him -- shirtless.

“Sorry,” Keith says. 

He feels like he’s walked in on him in the bath, even though Shiro is still very much clothed. His undershirt is so tight it’s practically see-through and Keith could count his abs if he looked long enough. Which he shouldn’t. He definitely shouldn’t. Because ogling coworkers is not _appropriate manager behavior._

He finds Shiro a t-shirt to wear in the office. It barely fits and it’s only marginally better than Shiro walking around in just his undershirt. At least as far as Keith’s dick is concerned. 

That night when Keith comes, thinking about tight abs and strong biceps and Shiro’s sunshine smile, he isn’t nearly as ashamed as he thought he would be.

Not until he gets to work the next day anyway.

\--

Keith has never been so thankful to have the next two days off. He could barely look Shiro in the eye after imaging him strip out of that comically tight t-shirt and climb into Keith’s bed. He sleeps in, jerks off -- to a nameless, faceless beefcake, thank you very much -- and does a much needed load of laundry.

In the afternoon, he gets a group text from Coran and a number he doesn’t recognize. That number turns out to be _Shiro’s_ and Coran has invited them both out to a celebratory managers only dinner. The last thing Keith wants to do is spend a day off at a restaurant he can’t afford with people from work.

However. 

It will be more time with Shiro. Maybe if he jerks off enough he can get this whole thing out of his system and be okay with looking but not touching.

\--

As usual, the #96 bus is a nightmare. After ten stops listening to screaming children, he’s ready for a drink. He doesn’t even care that this place looks pricier than he’s comfortable with. He walks through the door a few minutes late and thankful he arrived in one piece. The waitress leads him to Coran’s table but Shiro is the only one sitting at it.

“Where’s everyone else?” Keith asks. 

“Looking for parking,” Shiro says. “They might be a while. This place is pretty popular on the weekends.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Shiro shakes his head.

“I live a few blocks from here,” he says. “I usually pass it when I go running. I actually suggested it because I’ve always wanted to go but couldn’t justify the expense.”

“Wait, is Coran paying for this?”

“Even better,” Shiro says. “He’s charging it to corporate.”

“Oh my god,” Keith says. He picks up the drink menu and scans the imported beers. He’s getting something _expensive._

\--

The waitress comes by and they order their drinks. Shiro gets some kind of fruity lambic and Keith orders his favorite beer, a chocolate stout with an 11% ABV. He’s so glad he decided not to pass on dinner. While they wait Shiro tells him a story about a particularly heinous customer from his old store.

“And she used to wait for me specifically,” he says. His voice goes high-pitched and squeaky as he does an impression. “I want the nice young man with the robot arm to make my drink.” He shakes his head. “Even the other customers were embarrassed for me.”

“Oh my god,” Keith says. “That’s terrible.”

Shiro takes a long pull off of his beer and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Keith looks down at the table to keep from staring _directly_ at his mouth. He’d thought that by twenty-three, he’d have learned to have at least some kind of chill around cute guys. 

Coran, Alfor and Allura join them a moment later.

“Sorry, we’re late,” Coran says, pulling out a chair for his husband.

“It would have been faster if Dad didn’t insist we could find free parking instead of just letting Coran park at a metered spot,” Allura says, giving a pointed look at Alfor.

“I usually have better luck than this,” Alfor says sheepishly.

Coran reaches out and squeezes his husband's hand and they share a small smile. Allura rolls her eyes and Keith feels an unexpected pang of jealousy.

\--

Keith finishes his beer halfway through dinner and gets a second when the waitress comes by to check on them. By the end of the evening, everyone is a little tipsy, save for Alfor who graciously volunteered to be designated driver.

"You boys going to be alright getting home?" Coran asks. He wobbles a little when he stands up and Allura steadies him, even though she’s a little wobbly herself.

“I’ll wait with Keith until the bus comes,” Shiro says. “My apartment isn’t far from here.”

Alfor wrangles his family out and gives them a small wave goodbye. 

“They seem really happy,” Shiro says, turning back to finish his drink.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Allura used to work at my store. I miss hanging out with her.”

\--

Keith finishes his beer and they head outside. The wind has picked up and Keith pulls his jacket around himself tighter. He follows Shiro as he crosses the street, his shoulders hunched as they walk directly into the wind.

“You don’t have to wait with me,” Keith says.

“I know,” Shiro says. “But I want to make sure you get home okay.”

"Oh." Keith can feel his face getting hot underneath his scarf. "The bus probably won’t be more than a couple hours late.”

Shiro laughs.

"I like being a gentleman when I can."

He reaches out tentatively and twines his fingers with Keith’s. Keith looks down at their joined hands, his heart racing, and then back up at Shiro. There’s a shy smile on Shiro’s face and it makes Keith’s stomach do a somersault. He’s tipsy enough that flirting should come a little more easily but all he can think about is diving in feet first and pushing Shiro back against the bus shelter. He’d probably have to stand on his tiptoes to reach Shiro’s mouth, but Keith is okay with that. 

Keith stays silent. It's the only defense he has against his alcohol honest brain. If he opens his mouth he'll probably say something about how he’s been watching Shiro at work and it'll come off creepy instead of romantic. 

Shiro lets go of his fingers and shoves his hand in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What? No. I -- I’m just bad at this,” Keith says. “I was thinking about kissing you and managed to talk myself out of it.”

“Really?” Shiro says. He sounds more surprised than a human being who could have walked right out of Keith’s wet dreams should have any right to. He takes Keith’s hand again, squeezing his fingers gently. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you too.”

“I think my bus got lost in a black hole,” Keith says. “We might have some time.”

Shiro reaches up with his free hand and his cold metal fingers brush a piece of hair out of Keith’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He’s waiting for Shiro to lean in when his bus shows up.

“Damn it,” Shiro mumbles. Keith laughs and gives his hand a squeeze before letting go.

“See you at work tomorrow, I guess,” Keith says.

\--

Having Shiro around make things run smoothly, and it’s a weight off Keith’s shoulders knowing that he’s not going to have to put out any fires -- either figurative or literal. Pidge seems to have noticed that Keith’s in a particularly good mood, but she doesn’t press him on why. 

As they start getting ready to close, Keith volunteers to restock the milk fridge. His arms are full of cartons of 2% when the door opens and Shiro pushes through the plastic curtain.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might need some help.”

“I think I’ve got it under control,” Keith says. His face softens at the sight of Shiro. 

“Oh, well in that case,” Shiro trails off. His metal fingers curl underneath Keith’s chin, tipping his head up. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to Keith’s mouth. “I owed you that from last night.”

Keith shoves the cartons on milk back onto the shelf and wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling him down.

“Fuck professionalism,” he mutters. 

The kiss is graceless at first, his lips smashed against Shiro’s. But then Shiro winds his arms around him, opens his mouth and Keith licks into his mouth.

“_Keith_,” Shiro sighs when they part to breathe. They should go back to work now, before this gets out of hand. But then Shiro grabs his ass and all responsible thoughts fly out of Keith’s head.

When the door opens again, Keith’s legs are wrapped around Shiro’s waist. He’s perched on the edge of one of the shelves. The cold metal digs into his ass and he doesn’t care in the slightest. Shiro turns towards the door while Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck.

“Well,” Pidge says. “That explains that. Carry on.”

Keith looks up when he hears the door close.

“Good thing I’m going to a different store next week, huh?” Shiro says. He looks a little bashful but also a little pleased with himself.

“Shut up and kiss me some more.”


End file.
